


Pretty Little Head

by staticbees



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/F, all the major character death is canon, catch me totally falsifying how the military reports deaths, i might finish this i might not but, i wrote this forever ago and never published it, rip the dakotas, sorry for copious amounts of rewritten canon dialogue, the title is a song by eliza rickman, whoops, yeah i figured i might as well post it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 21:05:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticbees/pseuds/staticbees
Summary: South isn’t sure why Washington wasn’t chosen for an A.I.It’s a last minute thing, she knows. He was on the list above her, but just before he was due for implantation, she was bumped up. The whole thing was fairly hush-hush, and she’s heard some bullshit about hidden incompatibility, but the person who had told that to her didn’t really believe it himself, and neither does she.It doesn’t matter, though. She’s finally getting an A.I, finally getting to go on missions with the rest of Alpha team, maybe even rise above her brother on the leaderboard. Sure, A.I aren’t much more than glorified light bulbs, but they get the job done, and that’s what counts. She just hopes it isn’t an asshole like Gamma. Knock knock jokes get fucking annoying after half an hour in a Pelican dropship.Or: another one of the AUs where South gets Epsilon. Whoops.





	1. Chapter 1

South isn’t sure why Washington wasn’t chosen for an A.I. 

 

It’s a last minute thing, she knows. He was on the list above her, but just before he was due for implantation, she was bumped up. The whole thing was fairly hush-hush, and she’s heard some bullshit about hidden incompatibility, but the person who had told that to her didn’t really believe it himself, and neither does she. 

 

It doesn’t matter, though. She’s finally getting an A.I, finally getting to go on missions with the rest of Alpha team, maybe even rise above her brother on the leaderboard. Sure, A.I aren’t much more than glorified light bulbs, but they get the job done, and that’s what counts. She just hopes it isn’t an asshole like Gamma. Knock knock jokes get fucking annoying after half an hour in a Pelican dropship.

 

She lies on the cold metal table, all of her armor except for her chestplate and head on. It’s uncomfortable, sure, but North’s assured her it won’t take that long. Her brain scan glows bright blue on the wall, and she glances at where the chip is going to be inserted, morbidly curious. The Director and Counselor stand near her, supervising the surgery. Doctors rush around, finalizing last minute preparations.  

 

“She’s ready,” the Counselor notes, glancing sharply at South. 

 

“Hand me the Epsilon unit, please.” 

 

There’s a pause, and she watches the Counselor hand the unit to someone out of her field of vision. She lies on her stomach, heart racing in anticipation of the implantation.

 

“Sir, Agent South Dakota is prepped for Epsilon A.I.”

 

She felt a sharp pinprick of pain in the back of her neck, and she closes her eyes, wincing at the unexpected pain. There’s a moment of silence, and for a moment, before everything goes to hell, South feels relatively the same. Later, she will look back on this moment, search for a hint of recognition of what was to come. She won’t find any.

 

After a moment, South hears the A.I whisper a name, tentative and quiet, spoken into the empty husk of her thoughts. 

 

_ Allison? _

 

She starts.  _ Who- _

 

She jolts upright as Epsilon explodes into her  brain ,  burning the name into the deepest recesses of her  mind , the contours and edges of the letters tracing a searing path through her memories.

 

“Agent South Dakota’s vitals are spiking,” someone says, but their voice is muffled and distant, like they’re underwater, and South ignores them.

 

The woman’s face flashes in front of South's eyes like an afterimage from staring at the sun for too long, and she falls to the floor,  the pain in her head spiking .  The A.I's raw, tortured screams mingle with her own, and she lashes out, adrenaline and fear surging through her veins.  Her hands claw at the ground, armor scratching the floor, and pain  surges through  her like water from a broken dam.

 

There is a yell, and she feels the thin, cold prick of a needle in her neck, sending waves of fatigue through her. She slumps to the ground, her thoughts coming foggy and slow. The doctors lift her up and place her back on the table and she is helpless to do anything but lie there. The world goes dark, and she sinks into sleep.

 

-

 

_ Her hair is tied back in a ponytail, and her eyes are a bright blue, like the shimmering glow of a holographic projection. She smiles when she sees that he’s filming, waving her hand in front of the lens.  _

 

_ “Stop it. Put that thing down.”  _

 

_ Her laugh is contagious, warm and happy, and he can’t help but grin as she winks at the video camera. She continues putting on her gear, and fits her cap onto her head.  _

 

_ He zooms in on her face, and she frowns, gently pushing the camera away. _

 

_ “Stop it, you’re going to make me late. They’re waiting for me.” _

 

_ He grabs her hand, unwilling to let go. Her fingers curl around his, grip loose, and she sighs, turning back. _

 

_ “Leonard, come on. I have to go.”  _

 

_ She narrows her eyes.  _

 

_ “Don’t make me hurt you.” _

 

_ He sighs as she grins and walks back towards the door, fitting on her last piece of military regulation armor and picking up her duffel bag. _

 

_ She turns towards him, smiling confidently. _

 

_ “And don’t worry. You’ll see me again.” _

 

-

 

South drifts in and out of consciousness for days, North the only constant in her world.  He takes care of her, even though she protests, even though he has much better things to do than keep watch over his baby (by seventeen minutes) sister. He keeps checking up on her to make sure she’s okay, even though he knows it annoys the doctors to no end. 

 

She isn’t okay, of course. She had been wanting an A.I for months, jealously keeping her afloat, and as soon as she gets one, it tries to fucking commit suicide inside her mind. How the hell would she be okay after something like that? But she tells him she is, keeps up the act like nothing ever happened, like there isn’t someone else’s memories in her mind and a persistent voice twisting and digging its way into her thoughts, even after the A.I has been removed. 

 

Once, she wakes up to find North staring down at her, his helmet by his side, eyebrows furrowed in concern. She glares at him.

 

“I’m trying to sleep.” She’s annoyed, but not explosively so, and her voice is hoarse from disuse. North sighs.

 

“The doctors say you’ve been talking to yourself in your sleep.”

 

_ <Stop it.> _

 

South stares at her hands, tracing the lines on her palms as she avoids his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

 

“It’s clearly something, South. Have you been having nightmares?” 

 

_ <You’re going to make me late. They’re waiting for me.> _

 

His voice is gentle and slow, like he’s talking to Theta, and she whips her head up, eyes burning. “Stop fucking patronizing me! I’m not your stupid fucking A.I, North! I don’t need someone to care for me!”

 

_ <Leonard, come on. I have to go.> _

 

His eyes widen, and he backs away, hands up. “Woah, okay, I’m sorry.” He frowns, clearly hurt. “I was just trying to help.” 

 

_ <Don’t make me hurt you.> _

 

He picks his helmet up and fits it onto his head, lock mechanisms clicking it into place. He begins to head for the med bay door, armored boots clicking on the metal floor. Before North leaves, he pauses and turns around, his hand on the door’s handle. His gold visor stares back at South, and she grimaces, looking away.

 

“Sis?” he begins.

 

_ <And don’t worry. You’ll see me again.> _

 

“What?” she snarls, gripping the sheets on her bed with white knuckles. She hasn’t been allowed back in armor for days now, and the vulnerability of her situation is getting to her, North can tell.

 

“If you ever need someone to talk to, I’ll be here.” 

 

_ <I hate goodbyes.> _

 

He walks out the door and shuts it behind him with a clang. 

 

That’s the last time she sees her brother for months.

 

She drifts back into  unconsciousness , a woman she’s never met filling her dreams.

 

-

 

The Mother Of Invention is crashing, and everything around Agent North Dakota is falling apart at the seams.

 

South is still in medical, recovering from Epsilon, and he rushes through the corridors of the MoI, desperate to get there as fast as he can. He reaches it with relative ease, as most of the soldiers are off trying to secure the ship before it hits the planet’s atmosphere.

 

Dark red blood stains his armor mulberry, and he has a large gash on his arm from fighting off a few guards earlier. His gun is cocked and he is crystal-sharp alert, Theta scanning for hostiles. 

 

There’s a prone form, lying a table turned makeshift hospital bed, and North’s eyes widen.

 

_ South. _

 

Her pale blonde hair is splayed out on the clinical white sheet, and she looks tired and faded in her sleep, so unlike the ball of fury she had been the last time he’d seen her. Her orchid purple armor is scratched and dented, and the bright green highlights are worn and faded. 

 

He rushes over as the ship hurdles planetside, fire cascading from the hull. He wraps his arms around her, shielding her prone form as the ship hits a cliff, the boom echoing throughout the corridors. Theta is a murmur in the back of his mind, calculating percentages and possibilities, buzzing with the fear of things to come.

 

They hit the ground with a thud, tumbling off the bed and onto the floor. He quickly picks himself up, trying to ignore the many superficial bruises and cuts he sustained in the crash. 

 

_ I'm glad you're okay,  _ Theta whispers softly, still humming with nervous energy. 

 

South is crumpled in a heap on the ground next to the bed, and North bends down to check her pulse, relieved to find she hasn't suffered serious injuries in the crash. Despite that, her breathing comes slow and shallow, and there's a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Theta reassures him that it's minor, not a cause for concern, his tone uncharacteristically unworried. North supposed it's due to South's harsh treatment of all the A.I, despite her longing for one of her own.

 

He touches her shoulder, a gentle shake.

 

_ North, _ Theta hisses.  _ We have to go. Guards are on their way. _

 

"South," he whispers. "Wake up." She doesn't stir, and his heart sinks. The alarms have already been sounded, and even now, guards might be coming to scout out this area of the ship.

 

Theta doesn't say a word, still frantically calculating risks in the back of North’s mind.

 

North leans down and kisses her lightly on the cheek, ruffling her hair.

 

"See ya, sis," he says to her, before turning away with a bittersweet smile. He sighs, fitting his helmet back on his head with a click, and readjusting his grip on his sniper rifle.

 

_ It's for the best, _ he tells himself as he exits the medical bay, carefully stepping over debris from the crash, jagged pieces of glass and scattered medical equipment. _ I can't let them have Theta, and it'll only cause more trouble if I stay here. _

 

That's the last time he'll ever see his sister, although neither of them know it yet, and one of them never will.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aaand here comes the rewritten canon dialogue. also the counselor and the director. im so sorry.

South wakes up on the floor of the medical bay, blood trickling from her forehead. Her head aches, and the last thing she remembers is falling unconscious after a heavy dose of sedatives the nurses gave her for the pain. Her palms are scraped and stinging, and she groans and pushes herself up, flopping back onto the bed with a thump. 

 

There are medical supplies scattered across the room, and she figures either a patient had a psychotic episode, or the anti-grav got turned on and off again. She figures it’s probably the latter, and that she’s lucky she didn’t get injured by a high-velocity falling needle or some shit. The room is empty, and she squints against the dull red glare the emergency lights are casting on the bright white walls. 

 

There are clicking footsteps, and her eyes widen at the sight of the Director in the doorway, hands behind his back. He’s followed by the Counselor, and she frowns. Whatever they’re here for, it must be important. The Director’s mouth is pursed into a grim line, and as he steps forward she can see shadows under his eyes.

 

“Agent South Dakota. I’m afraid there’s been a… mutiny, on the ship. Your brother and two other agents sided with Agent Texas, and attempted to forcefully steal the A.I belonging to Agent Carolina and Agent Wyoming, among others. They left you behind during their... escape.”

 

Her eyes narrow. “North wouldn’t do that.” 

 

Except _ she _ would, she knows she would, if it was her life or his. Despite that, though, she knows before PFL he wouldn’t have left her anywhere, he would never even consider it. His betrayal hurts more than she could’ve ever imagined, and she clenches her fist, fingernails pressing into the palm of her hand.

 

-

 

Two months later, after her wounds have healed, she’s deemed fit for duty, despite the Counselor’s contradicting diagnosis almost a year before. She’s not going to complain. It’s not like she has anywhere to go, anyway.

 

North would hardly recognize her, now. There’s a fresh scar running across her lips, marring the soft skin, and she’s dyed the tips of her hair a bubblegum pink. 

 

Ever since Epsilon, memories have surfaced on a hair-trigger, prompted by the slightest flash of something she used to know. Any other color would’ve made her wince each time her hair fell in her face. The Director wouldn’t let her change armor colors, for some unfathomable reason. It’s not like she had to match anyone, anymore. North was gone, and probably wouldn’t be coming back for a long time.

 

After a few weeks, the Counselor takes it upon himself to assess her for a job. She stands in an empty room, staring at a one-way mirror with trepidation. Muffled voices come from the other side, and she tries not to think about anything but the present, about the  _ right now _ . If she lets herself focus on  _ before _ , she’ll get tangled up in a web of memories that she knows she won’t be able to escape from.

 

“...Agent South Dakota?”

 

She jolts, staring at the mirror in confusion. The last few minutes had been a blur of questions and answers and trying her best not to think about the past, and she had missed anything the Counsellor had told her. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

 

“Were you thinking about Epsilon again, Agent South Dakota?” the Counselor asks curiously.

 

She sighs. “No. Stop asking me that.”

 

“What happened with Epsilon was not your fault, Agent South Dakota.”

 

She rolls her eyes. “I didn't think it was.”

 

“We have safeguards for the unstable emotional patterns of an artificial intelligence. Sometimes these algorithms fail,” he explains.

 

South scoffs. “So then it's your fault.”

 

His voice is soft and slow, but there’s a cold, professional edge to it that she is keenly aware of. “We prefer to think of it as no one's fault.” 

 

She scowls. “Well, fucking _ fantastic _ for you.” 

 

“It is just a possible, but rare, unfortunate outcome,” he continues, his tone steely.

 

“How convenient,” she spits out, anger boiling up inside of her. 

 

“Are you having new feelings about the incident?” the Counselor inquiries.

 

“No, I’m _not_. Why the hell do you think I’d have new feelings?” Her voice is mocking. “ _Oh,_ I just had a session with the Counselor for Project fucking Freelancer! I feel so much _better_ _now._ ”

 

There’s an uncomfortable silence and she grimaces, turning away from the mirror. That was definitely the wrong thing to say, and although she doesn’t regret it in the slightest, it could have serious consequences for her time in the Project. She anticipates his words with baited breath. He could deem her unfit for duty again with a single word, and no one would ever need to know why.

 

“Do you think you could work with an A.I. or another agent ever again?” 

 

She pauses for a moment, processing the question. “ ...no, I really don't.”

 

“Good.” The Counselor replies. “Then we have a job for you. Welcome to Project Freelancer, Recovery One.”

 

-

 

The first body she recognizes is York’s, much to her surprise. He had seemed fairly competent back during the glory days of the Project, able to handle himself in a fight, even with his blind eye. Maybe he just ran out of luck. Hell, that was what had happened with most of the other dead soldiers she had been sent to dispose of during Recovery.

 

There are bodies, blue and red armor dented and scratched, scattered around the empty base York’s distress signal was emitting from. South steps around them, heading towards where his corpse lies on the ground, near a scorch mark. A shimmering green glow tints his lifeless golden armor, now dulled with age. 

 

She wasn’t good friends with him, and his death shouldn’t be a big deal, but she knows that if a top-ranking agent can die by a gunshot wound, North has no chance against whatever is hunting down the Freelancers one by one.

 

She bends down and reluctantly activates the A.I’s display unit.

 

“Prime display activated. Restoring functions. Hello, how may I be of assistance to you?” the A.I hums, and she glances at the holographic projection with distaste. She despised the A.I before Epsilon, and she hates them even more now, which was probably part of the reason she was chosen for Recovery. The Director had to be sure she wasn’t going to run off with one of his  _ precious  _ fragments.

 

“Instruction: identify yourself,” she responds.

 

“Executing; I am intelligence program Delta, as created for the special operative program Freelancer. I have been assigned to Agent Foxtrot 12, or, York. My assignee was recently killed in combat.”

 

She rolls her eyes. “No shit, Sherlock. Gimmie a second.” 

 

She turns away and contacts Command, trying to ignore the green glow pulsing at the fringes of her vision.

 

“Come in, Command. This is Recovery One. I found the Delta A.I. It looks like it’s still functioning.”

 

“ This is Command, we need a full inventory of the carrier's equipment before it's decommissioned.” 479er replies flatly.

 

“Why the hell do you need that?” South asks, annoyance audibly spilling into her words.

 

Niner’s words are vaguely cold and impersonal, and South can tell she’s sick of being stuck in one place for so long. After the MoI had crashed, Niner had been relegated to a desk job in Command; there was a fear that she potentially knew more than she should about the Project, due to her involvement with Alpha team, but they couldn’t simply let her go without a reason. 

 

They tried to keep their talking strictly professional. It was better that way, South knew.  Who knows what they might do to Niner if it got out that they were close.

 

_ Blonde hair and blazing blue eyes and a smile as bright as the sun, _ the lingering ghost of Epsilon whispers, and she squeezes her eyes shut, blocking out the memories.

 

_ No, _ she retorts fiercely,  _ Niner wasn’t like that. _

 

“Recovery One,  _ please _ respond to the directive. Perform a complete inventory.”

 

South sighs. “Roger, Command. Recovery One out.” She turns to the A.I, frowning. “Delta, instruction: run a full system diagnostic, with detail on armor components, analyze inventory.”

 

“Executing, result: all components present. Armor at 70% peak capacity.”

 

“Huh.” She pauses, finishing attaching the explosives on York’s armor. “Start a countdown for me. One hundred on the clock.”

 

“Initiating. One hundred. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight. May I make an inquiry?”

 

South looks up at the A.I from where she’s crouched, glaring at it from behind her helmet. She is  _ not  _ in the mood to talk to a fucking computer. 

 

“What do you want?” she demands, her voice hostile. 

 

The A.I hesitates a second before continuing. “Why was I not destroyed?” 

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

“When an assignee is killed in action, protocol dictates that all intelligence programs be destroyed.”

 

“Yeah, well, protocol isn’t everything. You were encrypted until you could be recovered. Now  _ I'm _ here to recover you.”

 

“Recovery carries risk. Destruction ensures that an A.I. will not fall into enemy hands.”

 

She laughs humorlessly. “Are you complaining about  _ not  _ being deleted?” 

 

“Not at all. Just noting a discrepancy.”

 

“Listen, if I had my way, I wouldn’t even be here. You cost a fuck-ton of money, and it's cheaper to recover you than it is to delete you. Go bitch to the accountants.”

 

“If I have offended you, I do apologize.”

 

“Huh, I didn’t know A.I could sound that insincere. Now, go store yourself in a portable component, I'm moving you.”

 

“You could insert me into your own A.I slot. I do not show it as occupied.”

 

“I’m not doing that.”

 

“If you are having difficulty, I can walk you through the implantation procedure,” it offers.

 

“I said  _ no.  _ I’m not fucking letting an A.I into my fucking head just to transport it to  _ Command _ .”

 

There’s a pause, and the slight hum of electronics. “Are you Agent South Dakota?” Delta asks.

 

“Wow, nice detective skills. I’m sure that took a  _ lot _ of processing power to figure out,” she drawls. “You know you’ve met me before, right? I didn’t know A.I had such short memories.”

 

“I’m afraid I didn’t register your designation at first. I regret my error,” Delta adds, before continuing. “I believe I now understand the source of your displeasure with me. You had... difficulties... with your assigned A.I unit, correct?”

 

“Difficulties?” she scoffs. “That’s the fucking understatement of the year.”

 

“In that case, I must insist that you terminate my program. Destruction ensures that an A.I. will not fall into-”

 

“Jesus, relax. I don't think you're in any danger of getting taken by one of the four dead guys here.”

 

“Three.”

 

South pauses, cocking an eyebrow. “What?”

 

“My sensors indicate only three inert human forms. Yourself and one other remain active.”

 

She bolts up, instantly alert. “What-”

 

There’s a bang, and several shots fire near her head. She ducks away, and starts to run. “Thanks for telling me earlier, asshole!”

 

“I suggest you return fire,” Delta informs her.

 

“You think?” she asks, dodging behind a wall. A plasma grenade lands at her feet, and she backs up, swearing. It explodes with a crackling blue light, too far away now to harm her, and she can see a figure in white armor run around a corner, cocked guns in each hand. 

 

South tries to get a good shot at the figure, but comes up dry, only realizing she’s out of bullets once she reaches the other wall. “Dammit.”

 

The white soldier reloads, taking cover behind a small alien ship hovering above the base. They cock their guns, but pause a moment before shooting, seemingly to asses the situation. As South watches, disbelieving, they begin to retreat, despite their obvious advantage. 

 

“What the hell?” 

 

Delta flickers on behind her. “Perhaps he realized that York's equipment was charged to detonate. Currently T-minus four-”

 

South’s eyes widen in alarm. “Instruction! Storage, now!”

 

“Executing.”

 

Delta disappears back into York, still counting down. South grabs the chip he’s stored in and leaps off of the base as the bombs detonate behind her, heat from the explosion brushing the small of her back. She lands on the floor of the base with a thump. 

 

“Well, at least that was easier than the last one.” 

 

As she starts jogging towards the base’s exit, she turns her helmet radio on, and connects to Command’s frequency. Almost immediately, there’s a response.

 

“Recovery One, this is Command, we have a level one distress signal, immediate response necessary.”

 

“I just took care of that, Command. I'm headed back.”

 

“Negative, Recovery One, this is a new signal.”

 

She stops in her tracks. “That's the fifth one this month.”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

South sighs, annoyed. “Alright, send me the coordinates.”

 

She reaches her jeep and starts the engine, driving down the beach, away from the base.

 

“I'm on my way.”

 

**-**

 

North lies on the rough ground, blood staining his armor. She approaches him, but can tell as soon as she gets within five feet that he’s dead, probably a gunshot wound; there’s a pool of dark red spreading beneath his chest. 

 

It shakes her, seeing North so lifeless and still. She stares down at him, numb. 

 

When she was a kid, all she ever wanted was to have her own life, her own friends and hobbies and clothes, to not be thought of the way people sometimes thought of them. As a single unit. So she started rebelling; a nose ring, dyed hair. It didn’t seem to work, but she stuck with it anyway, always professing how much she  _ wasn’t  _ her brother. North was always the kind, caring twin, the one who you would go to after a rough breakup, or when your pet had just died. She was just his shadow.

 

And here she is now, just wondering how she’s going to live without him.

 

He had just left her, once they got to Sidewinder. Not a word, not even a parting goodbye. She was fine with everyone else abandoning her; she would’ve done the same, had she been in their position. They were just as backstabbing and deceitful as everyone else she had encountered in her life, and that was something she’d come to expect. North, though? That shook her to her core. That he would care about some computer program over her, put his life at risk to save it from whoever had been after him before he died. 

 

She hasn’t seen him in forever, talked to him even less, and she knows she should be mad at him for leaving her alone on the MoI, but all she feels is empty, as if everything that’s happened these past months has simply drained the anger out of her, like water from a broken dam. If she had been with him… maybe he wouldn’t be here now, lying on the ground with lifeless eyes.

 

She figures Theta is gone, but she has to do a thorough check for Command, so she bends down and activates the A.I’s display unit, steering her mind back towards the professional coldness she’s learned to master. There is a hum, but nothing happens, just an empty space where there should be a glowing projection. 

 

She reaches gingerly to the back of his neck and recoils in horror and disgust, finding a mangled wound where the A.I chip should be. It’s been pulled out. Forcefully. 

 

She shudders, wiping her stained fingers on her armor. Whoever, whatever, can take down an Alpha squad agent with an A.I, and rip the chip straight out of his neck, she doesn’t want to meet. She stands back up to contact Command, tearing her gaze away from her brother’s corpse.

 

“Come in, Command. This is Recovery One.” She takes a deep breath, blinking back tears. Not the time to get emotional, especially not while contacting Command. “I’ve located Agent North Dakota. North’s A.I is missing. I think it was taken by whoever killed him.”

 

“Received, Recovery One. What was the cause of death?”

 

_ “What was the cause of death?” His voice is trembling and he fumbles for the strict professionalism he had maintained for years before she left for the army.  _

 

_ The woman stands in the doorway, papers in hand and an army cap fitted on her head, framed by a harsh sunlight that makes his closed eyelids turn a dull red.  _

 

_ Her voice is calm and collected, and he struggles to stay composed through her mechanical recitation of the documents.  _

 

_ “A bullet to the head. Medics weren’t able to get to her with biofoam in time. She perished in the field of duty. I'm sorry for your loss,” she adds sympathetically. _

 

_ He swallows hard, his breathing coming fast and panicked. She couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t possible. The air around him is thick and heavy, and he feels foggy and numb, like this is dream. No, not a dream. A nightmare. _

 

_ The woman clears her throat, hands the stack of papers to him. He takes them and averts his gaze, a lump in his throat. _

 

_ “These contain information about her service and a certificate of death. I understand this can be hard for families, and we have a child-friendly therapy program for families of soldiers who perished during active duty.” _

 

_ She says something else, but it’s muffled and faint, and he watches the door swing shut behind her as she walks away, leaving him alone in an empty husk of a house, and nothing to keep him company but his own voice. A thought strikes him, as he stands there, still staring at the closed door.  _

 

_ He’s going to have to tell Carolina her mother is dead, when he can barely believe it himself.  _

 

“Recovery One? Can you hear me?”

 

South glances up sharply, before realizing that the voice is coming from her helmet radio. 

 

“Yes, I’m fine.” She struggles to keep her voice level. “Just got a little... distracted, that’s all. What were you asking me again?”

 

Niner sighs. “What was Agent North Dakota’s cause of death?”

 

“A gunshot wound to the chest, I think. It- it’s hard to tell without the A.I.” Her voice hitches slightly as she speaks.

 

“Please dispose of the body, and we’ll send you the next coordinates.”

 

South nods. “Alright. Setting the explosives now.” She bends down towards the humming storage unit. “Hey, Delta?”

 

His glowing green projection appears above the unit. “Hello. How may I be of assistance?”  

 

“Instruction: give me thirty on North's clock. Hold on the log.”

 

“Acknowledged.” he replies. “Agent North Dakota-”

 

“I don’t want to talk about North with  _ you. _ ” she snaps.

 

“I am sorry if I have upset you.”

 

South doesn’t answer, listening listlessly to the drone of the countdown clock as she finishes attaching the explosives to North’s armor.

 

It’s easier this time, and South stands back to watch the blast with burning eyes. 


End file.
